Love All, Trust a Few
by RealityIsMyKryptonite
Summary: Conner makes a choice. M'gann creates a conflict. And Tim somehow manages to get caught in the middle of it. All because of some Red Kryptonite and that stupid bracelet.
1. Conner

**Wow, I actually managed to get you to check out my fanficiton. Sweet. I really hope that you enjoy it, and I will try to post new chapters as regularly as I can. Reviews are always appreciated!**

**Notes: This story takes place towards the beginning/in the middle of season two. Basically what I'm getting at is that M'gann and La'gann are together, Tim is Robin, Dick is gorgeous I mean Nightwing, and hey, Jason exists/is dead. There's going to be some non-canon stuff in here (obviously), so I'm just going to put that out there now.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the story. Everything else belongs to DC. **

**The title of the story is inspired by William Shakespeare's quote, "Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none."**

**Love All, Trust a Few**

**Chapter 1: Conner**

Why was he here again? Oh, yeah. That's right.

Just a few hours ago, he'd been getting ready for a much anticipated good night's sleep, and unfortunately, as he was brushing his teeth, a high-pitched squealing sound pierced his eardrums. No matter how hard he tried to cover his ears and make it go away, an enticing voice was suddenly heard over the frequency, giving him an alluring offer and coordinates to a rendezvous point. Conner hesitated at first, thinking it crazy to even consider associating himself with the bald-headed businessman, but he couldn't manage to get what Luthor had told him out of his head. It had caught him off guard. So after a few minutes of staring at himself in the mirror, he rinsed out his mouth and threw on some clothes before getting on Sphere and quietly making his way out of the cave. Typing the location into her GPS, he'd found himself ending up in the middle of a Smallville cornfield. Which brings us back to the starting question of: Why was he here again?

He combed his fingers through his hair as he tried to convince himself that there was a logical reason for him to have listened to Superman's arch enemy, but nothing stuck out. He should know better. He should know better than to be out here in Clark's hometown dealing under the table with Lex Luthor. The man claimed to have discovered some way to _permanently_ unlock Conner's full Kryptonian half, giving him all the powers that he was missing, much like the shields that Lex had once given him, only this time it wouldn't wear off. It would be _eternal_.

Conner cursed at himself under his breath. Falling weak to temptation had always been one of his strong suits. He couldn't even be sure if this would even work, let alone if Lex was even telling the truth. What kind of an idiot would actually trust Lex Luthor? His biogenetically engineered half-clone son, that's who. Whether it be some kind of Luthor instinct or just plain stupidity, he didn't know. He was mainly just interested in what Lex had to offer. No strings.

The ear-shattering noise of helicopter blades spinning interrupted his thoughts. It seemed to have come out of nowhere, and as he looked upward, squinting against the air being blown towards his face, he wondered how long he'd been standing there waiting.

As the copter made its way to the ground, Conner's heart pounded. The fact that he was nervous frustrated him. He hated it, hated being intimidated. It made him feel weak and helpless.

The door with a big LEXCORP logo painted on the side of it slid open as the helicopter landed, revealing the conniving billionaire who wished for nothing more than to kill Superman or make him his own personal play thing. Conner gritted his teeth, trying to keep a calm exterior while watching Lex step out into the field and walk towards him. The voice in his head suddenly grew much louder, screaming three words at him over and over again: _Turn back now._ In another attempt to keep a sound mind, he clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms.

Lex stopped a few feet in front of him, keeping his distance. To Lex, Conner always felt like a caged animal, on display for all to see, providing entertainment for him whenever he made a command. Like he was some sort of rare animal breed that could either make Lex a lot of money or screw them both over. And he couldn't help but think that maybe Lex felt the same way.

They made eye contact, staring at each other in silence for a few moments before Conner's impatience finally got the best of him. "So where is it?" He'd hoped to have come off as a bit less accepting, but it would have to do.

Lex smirked as if he was pleased to see his elaborate plan unfolding, which was probably exactly what was happening. "Well hello to you, too," he said.

"I'm not here for games. Where is it?"

"Where's what?" How could he sound so genuinely confused like that?

Conner's muscles tensed as he clenched his fists even tighter, separating his legs a bit to make his stance seem a bit more threatening. "Don't give me the run around, Lex. You know what I'm talking about."

"Do _you_ even know what you're talking about?" Conner froze. Lex crossed his arms. "Yes, I called you here, made you an offer, but has what I'm offering you ever been fully identified? No. You don't have the slightest clue of what you're really here for. You came on blind faith, a mistake that I, myself, had to learn the hard way." He raised an eyebrow, sizing Conner up. "I guess you've got more of the Luthor genes in you than I thought."

"Don't remind me," Conner growled.

Lex chuckled, "Well, I don't blame you. It is something that most would be ashamed of. Me, on the other hand…" It was then that he pulled out a small, metal case from his inside suit pocket, holding it in front of him. Fixing his vision back on Conner, his smirk grew into a grin. "I embrace it."

Conner's eyes widened. He stared at the object that Lex held in his hands, knowing full well that his entire world could probably be changed using just the contents of that little, metal box. No, not metal.

_Lead._

This was bad. This was very bad. Lex knew Conner's weakness, and his weakness came from his Superman half, and his Superman half got its weakness from Superman himself, whose weakness was shards of his home planet that made their way to Earth, and the only way to suppress their effects was to conceal them in lead, which makes lead usually mean…

This was very, _very_ bad.

Lex would never _kill_ him, would he? No, he had worked much too hard to create him, and if there was one thing that Conner knew, it was that Lex hated getting his hands dirty. So what was it then?

He seemed to have noticed Conner's discomfort. "Don't worry," he assured, "I have no intention of killing you. This is, however, a type of meteor rock."

"Kryptonite," Conner stated, "We both know that, that's what it's called, what it is…where it's from."

Lex nodded. "Yes, that may be true, but…have you ever heard of _Red_ Kryptonite?"

_Red?_ Was he joking? Superman…_Clark_ would have told him if there was more than one type of Kryptonite, right? This had to be some sort of placebo; a hoax. There was no way.

Conner's muscles relaxed a bit as he stood up straight, crossing his arms. "You're kidding me with this, right?"

Lex looked terrifyingly satisfied. "Should I take that as a 'no?'"

"_Red_ Kryptonite?" He chuckled. "Next I supposed you're going to tell me that there's Kryptonite for every color of the rainbow?"

Lex smiled, trying his best to deal with Conner's sarcasm. "I can assure you that this is no joke, Superboy. This stuff is very real and can be dangerous if not handled correctly." Shrugging, he stepped a bit closer. "However, in the proper hands, it could provide one with great power. Unfortunately, like all other types of Kryptonite, only Kryptonian blood is affected by it. That's why I've called you here."

Conner's stomach knotted. Why was Lex suddenly trying to _help_ him? They'd kept a pretty large distance from each other for the past five years or so, never really speaking unless one needed some sort of unexpected favor from the other. Or, you know, whenever Lex was plotting to destroy the world or anything like that. That was always fun. So it was easy to tell that something was obviously up.

Before Conner could say anything else, Lex placed a hand on top of the box, gently unlatching the front and opening it. Truthfully, it was not what Conner was expecting. At all. Inside was a thin, braided leather bracelet. At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary bracelet, nothing special about it, but when Conner leaned in for a closer look, he noticed that there were small, red beads woven into it with an almost alien-like glow. Nice choice of words.

Keeping his eyes locked on the appealing accessory, he questioned, "What does it do?"

Lex's smile was creeping him out, making him feel as vulnerable as a fish about to take the bait. Conner knew that there was something wrong, heck he knew that before he even got here, but he honestly couldn't help himself. He was genuinely curious. Though he did keep in mind what they usually say about curiosity.

"A better question would be 'what doesn't it do?'" Lex picked the bracelet up, holding it for both of them to see. "If you were to wear this," he began, "along with unlocking your full Kryptonian DNA, you would have no more struggling. No more pain. No more sorrow or grief. You would be free from all guilt or past regrets. All of your problems would be gone in an instant. Anything you want would be yours."

He almost felt like Lex was trying to sell him drugs or something, as if he was trying to make it sound like wearing the bracelet would get him eternally high. Of course, he was no druggie, but if that didn't sound good, than Conner didn't know what did. But truthfully, he was still more interested in the "full Kryptonian DNA" aspect of Lex's speech than any of the parts about him being numb to everything. He just wanted to fly.

Conner scrunched his eyebrows, thinking. "So…so it would give me all of Superman's powers…_forever_?"

Lex laughed, probably at the fact that this was all that Conner seemed to care about after everything that he'd just told him. "As long as you wear it, yes. You would, however, have a bit of a different outlook on things, but then again, it seems as though you already do anyway." His demeanor darkened. "If I had to guess, I would say that you and Superman don't exactly see eye-to-eye on a lot of things."

"That's one way of putting it," Conner said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, then here's your chance," Lex proclaimed, "With this, you can finally prove to our red and blue friend that the way you see things is the right way. Show _him_ who's boss." He put the bracelet back in the box and held it uncomfortably close to Conner. It was so tempting, so easy. All he had to do was take it and the world was his. Or so Lex claimed. This was too…_one-sided_.

"What's in it for you?" He asked, bringing his face closer to Lex's in somewhat of an attempt to beat him at his own game.

"What?" Lex smirked. "Can't a father give his son a gift simply because he feels like it?"

"Okay," Conner snorted, "I'll pretend that, that wasn't a lie." He raised an eyebrow. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Lex reassured, "No strings. All you have to do is put it on."

This was driving Conner insane. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that this was a trap, that this was wrong, that no one in their right mind should _ever_ trust Lex Luthor. Anyone with a working brain could tell him that. But there was just something…_something_ inside of him that made him reach out. Something inside of him that made him grab the box.

Examining it, he couldn't think straight, couldn't figure out what possessed him to be in any way a part of what had just happened here. It had already taken him five years to get himself to the point that he was at today, and now, he'd kind of just went and ruined that by showing up to this little escapade. In a way, he was thoroughly disappointed in himself for being stupid enough to show up, but one thing that kept pushing all of the negative thoughts from his mind was what he held in his hands. Whatever this was, whatever it could do, he wanted it. As much as he hated to admit it, it was his. And he was content.

However, he continued to play it off as if he was still unconvinced. "What happens when I don't want it anymore?" He waited for a response, but one never came. Where Lex had once been standing, there was now just a patch of bent wheat, so he looked to the sky. The helicopter had already lifted off in front of him, soaring upwards before eventually flying away.

"Man," Conner whispered to himself, "He could really teach Robin a thing or two."


	2. M'gann

**So obviously, this story is written in the third person point of view, but it's going to be switching perspectives between three people. You've already had Conner, this chapter is M'gann, and the next chapter will be Timmy. It will just continue to cycle in that order, much like **_**The Lost Hero**_** or **_**Son of Neptune**_** if you're a Percy Jackson fan. **

**Sorry it's a little short, but whenever I tried to add different things, I couldn't figure out where to put them because this chapter already flows so well, so it would just be awkward. Enjoy and review!**

**Chapter 2: M'gann**

M'gann yawned, trying to recall the last time that she was this tired. Their mission in Edge City last night had run a lot longer than she'd been expecting. Her, Beast Boy, Superboy, and Robin were sent to locate and capture the newly escaped Captain Cold, and they'd gone into it with much lower expectations than they had actually needed, having underestimated him and his plans. When not working with the rest of his chilling family, Cold had always been one to be a loner, so one could say that the team was unprepared when they discovered that he'd hired an army of goons to get the job done, and the crowd had made it easy for him to escape and make his way back to his hideout.

Conner insisted that Beast Boy and Miss Martian follow him, maintaining contact through the psychic link while he and Robin handled the remainder of the fighting. It had taken them nearly half-an-hour, but once they managed to finish up, they met up with Gar and Miss M and took Cold down, the only injury being the bit of frostbite that Robin had acquired on his nose.

She smiled at the thought. In a weird, little kid sort of way, it was actually kind of adorable.

So due to their incredibly unanticipated struggles, Nightwing had given all of them the first half of the day off. M'gann had taken that opportunity to sleep in. Crawling out of bed, she didn't even bother to change out of her pajamas as she headed for the kitchen. Arching her back, she stretched her arms upward as she walked, feeling a slight twinge of soreness from her late night adventure. As she walked past Conner's room, she couldn't help but take note of his closed door, which wasn't necessarily uncommon, but she frowned as she remembered the events that had occurred during the small hours of the morning.

_Earlier that morning…_

Robin's nose was colored a vibrant red at the tip. He sat on the couch as M'gann held a hot washcloth on it, trying her best to help take some of the numbness away. His cheeks seemed to be a little red, too, but she took a guess that the frostbite had nothing to do with it. Smiling at his innocent embarrassment, she laughed.

"What?" Robin asked, his cheeks turning a brighter red than before.

"Nothing," she giggled, "It's just…well, the thought of you trying to explain to someone how you managed to get frostbite in eighty degree weather is just really funny."

A small smile made its way onto his face. "Yeah," he said softly, "I guess it is." He paused for a moment, his expression slowly returning back to that of his brooding mentor, and he stared down at the floor. "M'gann?"

The tone of concern in his voice slightly worried her, and she became a little nervous as to what he was going to say. "What is it?" She questioned, placing her free hand on Robin's back. He reached up and removed her hand holding the washcloth from his nose, turning his head to face her. "You need to leave that on there," she told him, "It's the only way to-"

"Why is Conner so sad?" He interrupted.

M'gann's face flushed, turning a paler green than usual. Why was Conner _what_? Where was this coming from? Did Conner do something stupid? She did her best to appear confused, acting as if she didn't know what he was talking about. "What do you mean? Why would you think that?"

He gave a small shrug. "I don't know, I just…well, I just notice things…" Yep, he sure was a Bat-brat.

She hunkered her neck down to meet his eye level. "Notice things?" She repeated. "Things like what?"

He grabbed the edge of his seat, digging his fingers into the couch cushion. "I don't know, I mean…he's alone, all the time. No one ever goes and talks to him or asks him what he's up to or anything. And…and he's always so…so solemn, constantly talking with an edge to his voice. I mean, he's never like _snapped_ at me or anything, but he…he's never been particularly nice to me either. I-I'm not saying that he's mean or rude or whatever, because I know that's not the case, I'm just wondering why he envelopes himself in so much anger to mask all of the sadness inside. It just seems…I don't know, exhausting, like he's in so much pain all the time but instead of getting help or talking to someone, he fuels himself off of frustration." He looked her in the eyes. "Am I making any sense?"

M'gann blinked. She didn't…how did he even…what? She'd known Conner for five years, he'd known Conner for five months, and he was picking up on things that she hadn't. Was Conner still angry with her about what happened? It wasn't exactly the easiest thing to just get over. After all, it had taken _her_ a while…well, until she met La'gann. She really did like him…but there was always something missing. That something that made the relationship feel _whole_. Feel true.

Her and Conner…they'd somehow succeeded in finding that something, but ever since the breakup, there's just been…well, _nothing_. She couldn't help but think that if she was given the choice to have Conner back, there would be no hesitation. She'd take him back in a heartbeat. God, she missed him…

She mentally smacked herself. What was she _thinking_? It wasn't fair to La'gann for her to be thinking things like this. But maybe…well, maybe that meant something.

"M'gann?" Robin stared at her, a worried expression on his face.

Snapping out of it, she blinked a few times before putting on a painted smile. "Sorry," she said, "I was just thinking about how silly you sound." She had to play this off, had to make it seem as if there wasn't a single hint of doubt. Robin was good, and if she was lying, he would know. She was so screwed. "Conner's fine, Robin. That's just who he is. You know him and his angry personality."

Robin looked unconvinced, raising an eyebrow at M'gann's words. Not giving him a chance to say anything else, she stood up from the couch giving a nice, big yawn. "Man, I'm tired," she proclaimed, handing Robin the washcloth, "If you're not spending the night at Mt. Justice, then you should probably get home. Your parents must be worried."

"Sure," he said, staring at the rag in his hand. There was a short uncomfortable silence before M'gann headed out of the room.

"Well, I'm gonna get some sleep. Goodnight, Robin."

_Present time…_

As she arrived in the kitchen, M'gann grabbed a box of cereal from the top of the fridge and poured herself a bowl. Shaking her head and smirking tiredly to herself, she couldn't help but think about how only Robin could turn a frostbite treatment into a therapy session. He was so different from the other two former Robins.

Dick had always been so free-spirited and optimistic, acting as if he had the whole world in front of him no matter what happened. He'd always wanted to take charge, to make sure that everything was kept in check. It always pained M'gann to think about how he'd started out trying to save _everyone_, whether it be from the danger that was put in front of them or the threats that lurked inside. He had a bigger heart than anyone she had ever known.

And Jason…she paused for a moment as he came to mind. He'd been brash, irresponsible, and never followed orders…but at the end of the day, he was a good soldier, a kind-hearted individual, never afraid to do what he knew was right, no matter the circumstances. He'd only been on the team for a short time, but during his stay, he'd somehow gotten everyone to fall in love with him. Sure he was, at times, pretty hard to handle, but it was his courage, his ability to be so willing and ready to take a bullet for someone he just met a few minutes ago,_ that's_ what made him special. And those things? All of those things about him are what led to…

M'gann scrunched her eyes shut, pushing the painful memories from her thoughts. She poured some milk in her bowl before snatching a spoon and pulling up a barstool. As she ate, she returned her focus to Robin.

The new Robin. Much unlike Dick and Jason, he was very quiet and shy, always unsure of his position and where he fit in. Sure, he'd only been on the team for about six months now, so of course he was going to be a little self-conscious, but he'd been taking the term "secret identity" to a whole new level. People had tried asking him about his life, his backstory, his interests even, but all he ever did was shrug and say, _"Does it matter?"_

M'gann could tell that even though he'd managed to befriend a few teammates here and there, he still felt incredibly uncomfortable around anyone who wasn't a member of the Bat family, always hanging around Dick and Barbara like a stray dog. That's what made this morning so out of the ordinary. The fact that he openly admitted to being concerned about Conner caught her off-guard. It opened her eyes a bit, helping her to see that Robin did indeed care a lot about his team members, he was just afraid to show it. Was that some sort of inner strength thing that Batman had taught him?

No. It couldn't have been because Dick, Jason, or Barbara had never exhibited the same behavior. This was all his own. Maybe he wanted to impress Nightwing and Batman, or…maybe he didn't want them to worry about him. He didn't want either of them thinking him weak because…maybe he thinks that it would scare them, that if he couldn't take care of himself, he'd end up like...

She sulked, thinking about how hard that the boy must try all the time to not disappoint Nightwing, to not let Batman down, to be almost…_inhuman_. It wasn't right, wasn't fair for a teenager, whom she guessed to be about fifteen, to be feeling this way. Finishing her cereal, she stood up and placed her dishes in the sink, thinking about how she was going to try and talk to Robin about this later. If he'd opened up to her last night, maybe she could get him to talk to her about what he was going through. It was worth a shot.

"Morning, Sis," came a sleep laden voice from behind her. She turned around, only to see a messy-haired Garfield walk into the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

M'gann grinned, ruffling his hair. "Cereal," she teased, "but for you, I think I can make an exception." Walking over to the refrigerator, she questioned, "Usual?"

"Yes, please," Garfield said, nodding.

"Make that two."

M'gann stopped, spinning around only to be met with a pair of lips against hers. She let herself be kissed for a few moments before gently pushing away.

"Morning, Angelfish," La'gann cooed, keeping his arms draped around her waist.

"Good morning, La'gann," she returned, grinning at him. He really was a good guy, and a great boyfriend, but…why did she always feel so _guilty_ with him?

"Sleep well?" He asked longingly.

M'gann looked over at Garfield for a moment, noticing his sudden discomfort. What was with him? "Fine," she replied, laying her head on his shoulder. "Just fine."


	3. Tim

**Be easy on Dick. He's still rattled after what happened to Jason. He's only angry because he doesn't want Timmy to end up the same way. That's why he's so… "strict," I guess.**

**And Tim's a teenager, so yes, he is going to have a bit of an attitude. Can you blame him?**

**Chapter 3: Tim**

Tim hated being young. He absolutely hated it. When people looked down on him or worried about him just because he was fifteen-years-old, all he wanted to do was look them in the eyes and announce that he'd been trained by Batman for crying out loud; he could handle himself. If people couldn't see that, then that was their problem, not his.

Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down. He tended to get all worked up whenever he got ready for a mission, thinking of everything that usually bothered him whenever he was in the red and black suit. He was new to the team, which he could handle, but what he couldn't handle was when a good amount of his teammates treated him as if he were a novice. Just because he'd only joined their group a few months ago doesn't mean that he hasn't had any experience. Again, does "trained by _Batman_" mean anything to _anyone_?

As he finished putting his costume on, Tim fastened his utility belt around his waist, checking its compartments to be sure that he had restocked it properly. He picked up his mask, staring down at the very thing that he so wrongly believed made him who he was; his legacy. His destiny.

His _life_.

He didn't remember the last time that he'd spent a night at home. It was probably sometime before his father died, before all he had to look forward to after patrol was a massive, lonely mansion with a bedroom that was far too big for his liking. Sometimes he didn't know what he'd do without Alfred's occasional company.

Typing the coordinates to Mt. Justice into the Zeta tube's system, he walked forward, placing his mask on his face as a brilliant, white light engulfed his surroundings.

_Seconds later…_

"_Robin. B20."_

He walked in on Nightwing briefing the team for their missions.

"You all have your coordinates and assignments. Once your objective is complete, report back here for verification," he ordered. "That's all, and good luck." As everyone dispersed, Tim frowned. Garfield, Bart, and a few others gave him looks of pity. He and Cassie even had a silent conversation as she looked at him in a way that conveyed the message, _Where were you_?

_Busy, _he seemed to reply, shrugging his shoulders.

_He's not happy_, she cringed as her and the rest of the crew headed towards their assigned vehicles.

Dick was _glaring_ at him.

Tim bit his lip as he continued walking forward, stopping a few feet in front of his irritated older brother. This was not going to be fun.

There was a moment of silence, and then, heart pounding, Tim finally spoke. "Look, Dick. I…I can expl-"

"No, Tim," he interrupted, making Tim jump. His voice was stern. "I don't want to hear it." He ran his fingers through his raven hair. "This is the fourth time in the past two weeks that you've been late and M'gann's had to catch you up to speed."

"It's really no trouble," said M'gann, who had been listening in on their conversation. She made her way back over to them. "I don't mi-"

"It's not about whether or not you '_mind_,' M'gann. It's about him being irresponsible," said Dick, his voice raising.

"I'm not being irresponsible!" Tim shouted.

"Oh really? Well, what would you call it then because I sure don't know!" Dick was furious now.

"I…I've been…_otherwise_ occupied." Tim fiddled with his fingers. Making eye contact was at the bottom of his list.

"_Occupied_?" Dick questioned, the smallest twinge of curiosity in his voice, though he was still incredibly mad. He crossed his arms. "Occupied with _what_?"

Tim rubbed the back of his neck. As much as he'd wanted to tell Dick everything, he just couldn't. If he told him what he'd really been up to, he knew that Dick wouldn't like it, would make him stop. So he lied. "I've just…had more homework than usual these past couple of weeks. That's all." He knew Dick didn't buy it. He never did because it was never true.

The taller man pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Really, Tim? You really _aren't_ going to tell me?"

It was then that Tim realized M'gann was still standing in the room, a worried expression on her face. He tried to play it off. "Dick, I don't know what you're getting at, but-"

"What I'm getting at, _Tim_, is that when I tell you to be here for a mission briefing at a specific time, I expect you to be here. Not _after_, heck I'd even take _before_, but _on time_." He sighed. "Do you even take any of this _seriously_?"

Tim froze, in shock. His face turned red, eyes welling with tears. _Ouch._ That hurt. A _lot_. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

Dick must've heard the hurt in his voice because he calmed himself down a bit. "Look. All I'm asking is that you be honest with me. That's all I want."

Tim swallowed, his fists clenched, and then, out of shear rage, he said something that he would immediately regret. "Well why would you expect that? I'm only '_just a kid_,' right?"

The room went silent.

Dick's face suddenly became void of any expression. It was scary seeing someone like Dick Grayson lose every ounce of emotion that was previously present on his face. "You're right," he said, "You _are_ just a kid." Tim didn't like where this was going. "And we can't afford to have you get hurt or…or _killed_. That's why as soon as you've finished tonight's mission…you're _off_ the team."

"B-…" Tim refrained. Instead of arguing, he just sat there, staring at the floor. He was too angry, too stubborn to debate or beg for forgiveness. At that moment, he was honestly just done. With everything. He couldn't stand being in the same room as him anymore.

Dick sighed. He appeared as if he couldn't believe that those words had just come out of his mouth, but he didn't take them back. "Miss Martian will explain your objective," he added, looking over at M'gann before looking back at Tim. It seemed like he was going to say something else but had decided against it, and with that, he walked out of the room.

Tim couldn't believe this, couldn't believe that this was actually happening. A feeling of nausea swept over him as he glanced up, making eye contact with M'gann, and judging by the look on her face, if there was anyone more upset about Dick's actions than him, it was her.

_A few minutes later…_

"Did you want to talk about it, Robin?" M'gann's eyes beamed him a look of pity as she temporarily set the Bioship on autopilot.

Tim gritted his teeth. This was _exactly_ what he was talking about with the whole being younger thing. He tried to change the subject, talking quietly to her. "I know you heard my real name," he stated, "You don't have to keep playing dumb like that."

She shrugged, seeming a bit taken aback. "Well, I just thought that you'd prefer Robin, seeing as you've kept your identity secret for a reason, right?"

He didn't respond. How did M'gann manage to stay so optimistic all the time? Her attitude almost reminded him of Dick when they first started working together; they both projected an amount of happiness that was uplifting and annoying at the same time. Lately, however, something had changed in Dick. For the past month or so, he'd been acting rather out of character, much more solemn and contemplative than usual. It was almost as if he'd been spending too much time in a certain cave with a brooding, bat-themed mentor. 'Twas ironic, really, how Dick had stopped being Bruce's sidekick because he was afraid of growing up and turning into the Batman, but it seemed as if the further away from Bruce that he got, the more like him he became.

M'gann leaned in closer to Tim. "Would you rather I call you Tim?" She whispered.

Tim mentally slapped himself for even bringing this up right now. Turning towards her, he whispered back, "When you and I are alone, it's Tim. Anywhere else, it's Robin. Okay?" He came off as sounding a bit too cross for his taste. He really wasn't trying to be mean, honestly; he just needed to be left alone for a little while to process things.

M'gann's expression relaxed. "Okay," she answered, "But seriously though, did you want to talk about what happened back there?"

Was it wrong for him to be bothered by her concern? Man, Tim was in an _awful_ mood. _Thanks, Dick_, he thought, _Way to make me even more of a "team player."_

Being as polite as he possibly could, he answered her. "Thanks, but no thanks," he said, giving a very small smile, "Sorry, I'm just not in the best of moods right now. Maybe later?"

"Okay," she said, his smirk bringing a grin to her face, "Whenever you need me, I'm always here." Tim nodded at her as she returned to her seat and began steering the ship once more.

He studied his other teammates.

Garfield was sitting to his left on the other side of the ship, playing with his green tail as if it was the most new and interesting thing that he'd ever seen. Why he always remained in his half human, half monkey form, Tim didn't know, but it suited him. Sure, it might've looked kind of silly at first, but when you really think about it, Garfield was lucky. His powers made him unique, made him stand out amongst others, and that was awesome.

Tim moped. Oh, what he would _give_ to have superpowers. Without them, he always felt like that one awkward kid who gets picked last to be on someone's kickball team. Sure, there were others who didn't have powers as well, but once again, he was the youngest of that bunch and not to mention, had been doing the team thing for a shorter time than them. It was a surprise that he was even allowed to go on missions higher than Gamma status.

But if he were to have powers, things would be so _different_. People would look at him not as a younger team member, but as a younger team member who had _special abilities_ to get a specific job done. Now _that_ would be nice.

It had always been a secret desire of Tim's to be able to _fly_. Ever since he'd first seen Superman on television, the teen had dreamt of lifting off of the ground, soaring through the sky with nothing to catch him but the wind itself, gliding against his chest beneath him. He gave a sigh of content just thinking about it.

It was then that Tim focused his attention on Conner, who was staring off at the ocean below them. He sat at the front of the ship, having yet to say one word. Tim wondered what he was thinking about. His thoughts drifted to last night – er, earlier this morning – when M'gann had finished helping him treat his frostbite.

Pausing for a moment, he turned and looked at his reflection against the window to his right as he remembered. He sighed as he discovered his nose to still be tinted with a faint red hue.

When M'gann had left the room to go to bed, Tim got up and made his way over to the Zeta tube. Upon arriving there, he noticed that Conner was prepping Sphere. Just as he was beaming back to the Batcave, he saw him open the ground hatch of the mountain and fly away. And now, sitting here in the Bioship on their way to Star City, this was the first time Tim had seen him since.

What had he been doing? And more importantly, who had he been doing it with?...

_Wait._

It was then that Tim came to a sudden realization. He cursed at himself under his breath. How could he have been so _stupid_? Scrunching his eyebrows, he tried to cope with the fact that Conner had actually met with the awful human being.

How did Tim know this? It was the same reason why he had been late to so many mission briefings lately. How he'd been spending all of his free time.

Investigating Lex Luthor.

_Naturally._


	4. Conner (2)

**In case you're confused, Conner still has the red K bracelet, he just hasn't decided whether or not he wants to put it on yet. It's still in the lead box in his room.**

**Also, all psychic link talking is in bold italic.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**Chapter 4: Conner**

All Conner wanted to do was sleep. Considering that he'd gotten none of it in over thirty-six hours, he was _exhausted_. Sitting on a three hour Bioship ride didn't really help, either. Why couldn't they just have Zeta'd to Star City again? Oh, that's right. A team of Queen Bee's Biyalian goons had managed to power down the tube in the lab – connected to Queen Industries – which they were ambushing. The only other closest tubes were in Seattle and Santa Fe, not really leaving them with many other options than to just truck it in the Bioship. _Fun_.

Conner tried his best to hold back a yawn. He'd wanted so many times during the flight to get up, stretch his legs, and maybe start some form of conversation with someone so that it wasn't so freaking quiet, but unfortunately, none of those wishes came true. Who would he even _talk_ to? Definitely not M'gann. That was just an awkward conversation full of false feelings and painted smiles waiting to happen.

_Gar_? Well, as much as he loved the kid, he could never really fully enjoy talking to him. He somehow always managed to switch any subject to his memories of when M'gann and Conner were still dating, and that made Conner's stomach churn. It was almost as if the kid was playing matchmaker between the two, dropping little hints here and there to each of them that they were "_meant to be together"_ in a shameless attempt to get them to make up. Why, he didn't know. Maybe he just really didn't like La'gann. Who could blame him?

So that left Robin. The third Robin; in other words, the most bearable of the bunch. Dick _was_ cool until he grew up to be kind of a jerk at the moment, and Conner meant no disrespect to Jason, who had reminded him a lot of himself the older the kid got, which wasn't necessarily a good thing, but this Robin really was Conner's definition of third time's the charm. Sure, he was a little quiet and a tad unsure of himself, but he had a lot of potential. Conner could see that.

However, he frowned at the thought of trying to talk to him out of nowhere. He was afraid that he intimidated him, belittling his words and actions with his size and abilities.

He hated that; hated making people look down on themselves, especially when it came to this new Robin. Robin already had confidence issues, he could see that plain as day, and he would never forgive himself for ever contributing to the boy's lowering self-esteem.

All Robin needed was a chance.

Taking a deep breath, Conner twirled his chair around to face him. To his surprise, Robin was already looking at him. Was he…_studying_ him, from behind? His tactics made Conner raise an eyebrow, causing Robin to blush and quickly avert his gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck, giving a small smile in the Boy Wonder's direction.

_Here goes nothing_. "I-"

"Prepare for landing," M'gann stated, steering the ship downward towards the top of a building near their objective.

_Of course_.

Conner exhaled as the ship touched down. There goes _that_ idea. They unbuckled and exited the ship, forming a circle atop the roof. Conner immediately took the lead. "Okay," he announced, "A quick recap of our main objectives: Get in, take out Queen Bee's stooges, reactivate the Zeta tube, secure any dangerous chemicals, and get out. Also, be sure to check for any workers who might still be trapped inside.

"Beast Boy, you're going to start searching the building for any hazardous spills while Miss Martian and I get rid of Bee's henchmen." He turned and looked at Robin. "Robin, you're in charge of getting the Zeta tube back online. If anyone needs assistance in any way, just ask. Miss Martian will establish a psychic link once we're inside. Everyone good?"

The three nodded simultaneously. "Good. Then let's go."

_Inside Queen Industries…_

There were eight of them, all dressed in black spandex and full face masks that looked as if they could function as night vision goggles when needed. Five of them charged towards Conner as he made himself known, swords and nunchucks in hands like some sort of ninja squad. As he got into a fighting stance he saw the other three head towards M'gann.

Piece of cake.

_**How come I only get three?**_ She teased, her light hearted voice-of-mind blatantly contradicting with her stern, battle-ready expression.

Conner mentally laughed. _**You can have one of mine**_**.** And that was their final exchange of thoughts before making their first move. One of the henchmen swung his sword at Conner, another coming at him from behind with a pair of nunchucks. He raised an eyebrow as he ducked, the man's sword slashing through his ninja buddy's nunchucks, splitting them into what were basically now a pair of escrima sticks. In their momentary pause of confusion, Conner kicked one of them in the stomach before punching the other, sending both of them to opposite sides of the room where they were knocked unconscious as they slammed against the wall. _Some ninja_.

Another one with nunchucks came at him, making a show of his skill, twirling and swinging them around his shoulders as he exchanged them between hands. He swung at Conner who, in turn, blocked his every move before finally finding an opening to land a punch to his gut, causing him to bend over in pain. Conner karate chopped his back, knocking him out against the floor, as he wondered where the other two bad guys ran off to-

"GAH!" He felt the edge of a blade rip into his back. _Found one_. The back of his shirt was now torn open, but there was no blood. Just a scratch. A perk of being the clone of an indestructible alien. However, he still felt pain, his spine tingling as if someone had set fire to his flesh.

Gritting his teeth, he spun around, sending a punch into what was now just air. As soon as he realized his mistake, the sword made contact once more, this time at his thigh. As it slashed through his pants, he cried out again, now breathing quickly and heavily through his teeth like a rabid animal. Suppressing his anger, he focused, remembering what Black Canary had taught him: Self-control.

He squatted on one leg and spun, sweeping the henchman's feet out from under him with the other. Kneeling next to him, he gave him a quick tap on the forehead, finally knocking him unconscious. Satisfied, Conner stood up, awaiting his final assailant, but, incidentally, he never came. Scrunching his eyebrows, Conner turned around to find M'gann just finishing up her side of the battle. Three of Bee's men lay at her feet as she looked over at Conner and smirked.

Conner rolled his eyes. _**Robin. Status update.**_

_**Still working on it,**_ he replied.

_**Well maybe you could work-**_

_**You're fine, Robin,**_ M'gann interrupted, _**While you finish up, Superboy and I will help Beast Boy secure the area. You've got some time.**_M'gann glared at Conner.

"What?" He asked, shrugging.

"Conner…" She paused for a moment, rubbing her temples. Sighing, she gave up. "Never mind."

Oh no. What now? What was her _problem_? Had he done something wrong? Why was she upset with him? What did he even _do?!_

Girls are so complicated.

"Whatever," he mumbled, crossing his arms, "Let's just go help Beast Boy." He began walking away from her. "You take the left wing with him, I'll take the right."

_The right wing of Queen Industries…_

As Conner scouted the area, his thoughts took over.

What were Bee's goons even here for in the first place? Bee always seemed to be in league with Luthor, so why would Lex send her _here?_ Everything that he would find in this lab he could easily obtain himself with his own resources. It just made no sense.

Also, where did that other henchman go? Was it safe to just be mindlessly opening doors left and right?

...And what was M'gann's _problem?!_ He still had no idea what he'd even done to deserve-

He shook his head, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. Bee. Henchman. Lex. Why?

After checking all of the rooms down a long, white-tiled hallway, he couldn't help but notice a door down at the other end. It was almost twice as large as all of the other doors and was painted caution-tape-yellow with the letters "Kr" printed on it in red.

"Kr;" big "K," little "r." The atomic symbol for Krypton. How had he missed _that?_

Conner's eyes widened at the sight. Why did Queen industries have…what were they up to? His stomach dropped, the thought of what might be behind that door giving him chills, but he _had_ to know. If Queen was, for some _insane_ reason, working with Cadmus, he had to figure out why. Had to put a stop to it before their mistakes could be repeated.

Grabbing the door, he ripped it off of its hinges and leaned it against the wall. The lack of security system set alarms off in his _own_ head, making him even more uneasy than before. Taking a deep breath, he entered the room.

It was dark. So dark, in fact, that he couldn't see practically anything except for a faint, green glow illuminating a small part of the room. Was that…? No, it couldn't be. He apprehensively moved a bit closer towards it, fear welling up in the pit of his stomach. Once he was about ten feet away from it, he stopped, examining the object from afar.

It _was_. Raw, green Kryptonite.

Conner froze, acting as if he was face-to-face with a tiger, raising his hands up and backing away slowly. He did, however, manage to take one step too far. Suddenly, a siren sounded, the room lighting up with a flashing red light. He jumped. _There's_ the security system. About time.

Well crap.

Abruptly after realizing what he'd done, an explosion rumbled somewhere across the facility, the floors shaking, followed by two more loud bangs, one after the other. What had he _done_?

_**M'gann? Robin? Gar? Are you guys ok-**_ And in that instant, titanium bars slammed to the ground, blocking Conner's exit. He spun around, standing at the ready for any danger, when a hissing noise broke out from behind him. Turning to face the meteor rock, it was then that he saw it.

Gas; a thick, green cloud of gas was erupting out of a vent below the Kryptonite. This…was not good. Before he could react, the gas suddenly started shooting out of the ceiling, right on top of him.

From that point on, he forgot what it was like to breathe clean air. Every inhalation _burned_ his lungs, weakened his muscles. He coughed, attempting to expel the Kryptonite gas from his lungs, but his efforts were futile, and as he brought his hand away from his mouth, he fell into a state of panic as he noticed that blood was splattered all over his palm. What came after was far worse, as he was unable to cease the now violent coughing, and more of the sticky red substance continued to spill from his mouth and onto the floor. All of his strength slowly left him as he fell to the ground, clutching his stomach.

He hadn't expected to die like this, die on a simple mission that he hadn't even given a second thought to, but they say that death always comes when you least expect it, and Conner groaned as he tried to prove that saying wrong. All he had to do was hang in there, just a little while longer. One of his teammates was bound to find him sooner or later, right? After all, he had called for them telepathically…though, none of them had answered. But when he doesn't report back after a certain amount of time, then they'll know something's up, right?...though, the entire building was now going up in flames.

He moaned once more, feeling as if his stomach was dissolving into itself, head _pounding_. How could he have been so _stupid_? _Next time,_ he told himself, _stay _away_ from the big, yellow door._ Though as his consciousness gradually began to fade, he found himself not necessarily regretting his actions. Queen Industries was experimenting with Kryptonite. That _had _to be why Lex and Queen Bee were infiltrating the place, and now, the Justice League would know. They would find him. They would find this room. They would find everything. He just hoped that he would be alive to see it. And that the flaming building didn't burn away all of the evidence. _Great_.

_**Conner? CONNER?!**_ M'gann's voice sounded over the psychic link. It was the last thing that he heard before blacking out.


	5. M'gann (2)

**Sorry this chapter is so freaking short. I promise that future chapters will be **_**much**_** longer. I just had this all planned out in my head and when I finally wrote it all down, it ended up being a lot less lengthy than I'd intended. I have a tendency to do that.**

**Also, it's just kind of hard for me to write from M'gann's perspective, BUT she's currently important to the story, so 'tis a must. I might drop her later, but we'll see how it turns out, I guess.**

**Chapter 5: M'gann**

_**Conner? Conner?!**_ M'gann screamed through the psychic link at the Superboy, but there came no reply. Another explosion rattled the complex, causing her to look to Garfield and make sure that he was okay. He was, however, not where he'd been standing just a moment ago.

M'gann was immediately stricken with panic. Conner wasn't responding, Tim was nowhere to be found, and as if those things weren't already bad enough, now Gar was missing. They had just finished checking all of the rooms on their side, so she had no idea where he possibly could have gone off to.

The room grew warmer, the crackling noise of flames suddenly becoming more and more audible. This was so bad. "Gar!" She was too out of focus to even try to use her psychic link. "Garfield! Where are you?!" Her heart pounded, fire and the sound of falling debris the only thing she could hear. Turning every which way, she flew down hallways and in and out of rooms in search of him, being sure to avoid the sections of the building that were now engulfed in flames.

After checking so many rooms, she stopped, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She could _not_ lose him. Just as she was about to reestablish psychic connection, the world around her was ripped apart with a loud _BOOM!_ She cried out as a large chunk of the ceiling toppled down on her, burying the Martian in concrete. She shook her head to clear her vision, eyes widening at the sight of the approaching flames. It was all happening so fast that the fire came close enough to weaken her before she was able to become intangible and escape.

She was trapped.

Her nose and throat stung with smoke as she coughed in an attempt to be rid of the pain. Eyes drying, she couldn't see a thing. All she could do was wait and hope that one of her teammates would find her, save her. Closing her eyes, she remained still, taking this time to reflect, to compose herself, to remember while she still could…

Garfield was ten, she thought. He was ten and they had just gotten back from going out for ice cream. She held one of his hands while Conner held the other, swinging him back and forth through the air as they walked. His contagious laughter had brought smiles to everyone's faces as the three of them made their way to Garfield's room at the Cave.

"_Okay, kiddo_," she'd said, "_It's getting pretty late. I'd say it's time for bed._"

"_For once_," Garfield yawned, "_I agree with you. I'm exhausted._" As he walked into his room and made a quick change into his pajamas, M'gann looked over at Conner. He was staring at her, a small grin on his face. Blushing from the attention, she smiled back at him, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

As Garfield jumped into bed, M'gann walked over and sat down next to him, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. She brushed his hair away from his face, kissing him on the forehead before turning off his light. "_Goodnight, Gar_," she'd said.

"_Night, Sis_," he responded. "_Night, Conner_."

It was dark now, so she really couldn't see him, but she knew that Conner's face had turned red. Her smile grew as she heard the surprised excitement in his voice. "_Goodnight, Gar_." He made his way over to M'gann and placed a hand on her shoulder as she stood up, and they walked out of the room, gently closing his door. They stood there, facing each other for the longest time until M'gann grabbed his hand and led him down the hall to the door of her room. Upon reaching it, she faced him again, looking up at him with a smirk on her face.

He blushed. "_What?_"

She giggled. "_He really likes you_."

Conner's expression softened, and he chuckled. "_Yeah, heh. I guess he does._"

It was then that she realized they were still holding hands, and she took that opportunity to pull him closer and wrap her arms around his neck. He returned her gesture with a wicked grin as he placed his hands on her waist. His touch made her sides tingle with excitement as she gazed into his eyes. His deep, vivid, electric blue eyes that made her weak at the knees. Her _favorite_ part about him. Obviously due to impatience, Conner closed the space between them, pressing his lips against hers. She tangled her fingers in his raven hair as she deepened the kiss, standing on her toes.

God, she'd loved him, she really did. Every single _inch_ of him. And it was when they kissed like that, that assured her he'd felt the same way. Everything had been so _perfect_…

M'gann cringed as she snapped back into reality, cursing at herself under her breath. How could someone manage to screw that up? Her heart physically hurt just thinking about it. "I'm so sorry," she whimpered, "so, so sorry…"

"Why are _you_ sorry?"

M'gann's eyes shot open at the sound of another voice. "Gar!" She screamed. "Oh, thank God you're alright!"

"Of course I am," he said. "You, on the other hand. I can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I? Let's get you out of here." He stepped back a bit, shape-shifting into a gorilla before jumping over the fire and grabbing hold of the fallen ceiling. Lifting it up ever so slightly, he clutched onto M'gann's waist and pulled her out, dropping the debris and leaping away from the mess.

M'gann coughed as Gar cradled her in his furry arms. "Thanks, Gar," she murmured with a small smile and half-lidded eyes. She was barely holding on to her consciousness, but she somehow gathered just enough strength to finally reestablish the psychic link. _**Have you seen Conner?**_

_** Not since we got here, no.**_ He continued to maneuver his way down the heated hall and around flaming pieces of the complex as M'gann's heart sunk. He had to be okay. He had to. He was Superboy for God's sake. Nothing on _Earth_ could hurt…

Her stomach dropped as she mentally repeated those words: _Nothing on Earth._ What if…no. No way. This was Queen Industries they were talking about here. Oliver Queen would never…

Mind running rapid, she expanded the psychic link, desperately searching for his voice. _**Conner? Conner, please. Please answer.**_ There was a moment of waiting.

_**M'gann? Man, it's nice to hear from you again. Are you okay?**_

M'gann smiled at the familiar voice. _**Tim! Yeah, I'm fine. What's happening with you?**_

_** Just finished restoring the tube. Though I'm not sure how much use it's going to be now that the entire building is burning to the ground. What even-**_

_** I'm not sure, **_she explained, _**I think maybe…**_ She paused, not really wanting to think about what Conner may have done.

Tim must've taken note of that because he spoke up. _**Did Gar find you?**_

_**Yeah. We're on our way out right now. I can't take much more of this fire. **_Just as she thought that, Garfield smashed through the side of the building and carried her out, gently setting her down on the ground. She lay there, propping herself up on her elbows, gazing at the fiery destruction before her eyes. _**Tim, where are you?**_

_** Bottom level. Wait…where's Conner?**_

__M'gann bit her lip. _**I…I don't…I lost contact with him. He's not responding.**_

__There was a long minute of agonizing silence before Tim finally said something. _**I'm going after him.**_

__M'gann sat up. _**No! Tim, get out of there now. It's too dangerous for you to be-**_

_** If he's hurt, then I'm his only hope,**_ he interrupted, _**I have to help him.**_

_** Then I'm going with-**_

_** No,**_he stated firmly, _**The fire's spreading too quickly. With your weakness, you would only hold me back.**_

_** I can help!**_ Came Gar's voice. He'd shifted back into his half kid, half monkey self. _**Let me-**_

_** NO. **_M'gann and Tim said in unison. She stood up and walked over to Garfield, putting a hand on his shoulder as he stared at the ground, pouting.

_**You've done enough already, **_she claimed, _**I can't have you risking your life like that again. **_He nodded his head in understanding, hopefully getting the real message of M'gann's fear of him dying the same way as his mother: Through Queen Bee's actions. She turned and faced the burning building once more. _**Please reconsider this, Tim. If anything happens to you-**_

_** It'll be on me, and only me. Got it?**_

M'gann clenched her hands into fists, silently accepting what he was implying. Tim was…_strong_, and very self-motivated. How did he always manage to know exactly what to do?

_**No matter what happens, it's all my fault. I did it on my terms. There's no way you could've stopped me. Okay? **_He paused, probably waiting for her to say "Okay," but she never did. How could she just sit here and let him do this? If anything went wrong, Dick would never forgive her. She wouldn't be able to live with herself, seeing another Robin go. _**M'gann, I need you to promise me. Promise me right now that you won't blame yourself. Promise me that you'll tell everyone that this was all my fault.**_

__She hesitated, biting down on her lip even harder.

_**M'gann!**_

_** I promise! **_She answered, tears welling in her eyes. What was even _happening_ here? Her breathing quickened, frozen where she stood.

_**Good. I'll try to contact you when I find him. Stay connected.**_

__She swallowed. _**Tim?...be careful, yeah?**_

_** I'll do what I can.**_

__She thought about going in there after him, not caring about what he'd asked, but as much as she hated to admit it, Tim was right. All she would do is slow him down. Sometimes being a Martian really sucked.

It was then that she felt a small hand grab onto hers, holding it tightly. She squeezed it back, her eyes never leaving the flame-engulfed building. All that they could do now was wait.


	6. Tim (2)

**Tim really enjoys talking to himself.**

**Chapter 6: Tim**

Over the years, Tim had learned not to believe in luck. Probably because he'd always had the worst of it. Take now, for instance. At the very moment that he was completely finished bringing the Zeta tube back online, his whole world came crumbling down – _literally_ – and now he had to maneuver his way through the inferno of an obstacle course to rescue a teammate, all while keeping fresh oxygen flowing in and out of his lungs.

He took a deep breath before removing a small gas mask from his utility belt and placing it over his nose and mouth. It was a real pain breathing through this thing, but anything was better than the smoke-filled air. Pressing a few buttons on his glove, he ordered the program to scan the building, locating Conner to have been on the upper level of the right side. Great. Tim was currently on the lower left side. _Fantastic_.

Tim sighed. More good luck.

Taking out his collapsible bow-staff, he expanded it, starting to make his way across the complex, vaulting over fallen debris and smashing any that dropped from above. It almost seemed as if it were an everyday routine, which with Tim, in some cases, it kind of was. He pretended that he was back at Mt. Justice, doing a simulated training exercise where he had to rescue habitants of a burning building. It helped him stay calm and focused.

However, when he was about halfway to Conner, an abnormally large piece of concrete plummeted from the ceiling. Tim was fast, but not fast enough. It came down, landing on his leg and crushing his ankle. He heard a loud _crack_, and he was pretty sure that it didn't come from the slab as he shrieked in pain, face flushing. His vision blurred, an explosion of colors dancing before his eyes as he dazedly tried to spin himself around. He had never before seen a piece of concrete that massive, and it was on top of him. His entire leg began to ache, and he grunted, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Exhaling, he jammed his staff down under the concrete. Pushing down, he yelled, trying to pry away the mass, but all that he managed to do was send more pins and needles shooting through his joint. He screamed once more.

_**Tim? Is everything okay?**_ M'gann's voice gave him an unexplainable sense of comfort.

_**Okay is not the word I would use**_, he responded, trying to control his rapid breathing. _**I'm stuck.**_

__**Stuck?**_** How much debris?**_

_** One piece. One really freaking huge piece that broke my ankle.**_

_** Oh God, Tim…**_ There was a pause where Tim was really hoping that she would say something like "_The Justice League is on their way" or "Back-up just arrived," _but instead, her words proved to be a little more powerful than he'd been anticipating. _**Okay. Just stay calm.**_

__**Really**_** trying to.**_

_** Just…listen. Think…think of something that will calm your thoughts. Anything, as long as it will motivate you and help you stay focused.**_

__Panting heavily, he spoke to himself, "C'mon, D-Drake," he managed through gritted teeth, "Conner needs you. Besides…wh-what would Batman s-say if he saw you all w-weak like this?" He'd been in worse situations…okay, maybe not _worse_, but he'd definitely been through some pretty horrible stuff. Whining, he tried to think of anything at all that could calm his mind…

Tim breathed. He closed his eyes. And thought.

That's it. _**Got it.**_

_** Good. Now push.**_

__He paused, grasping his staff as tightly as he could before forcing it down, crying out. Finally easing the rock up ever so slightly, he yanked out his foot, immediately releasing the pressure he was exerting on the staff and falling backwards. He grasped his leg, breathing like a rabid dog as he attempted to remain conscious. Blacking out now would be suicide.

_**Tim? Tim, what happened? Are you free?**_

_** Yeah,**_ he managed.

_**Can you continue?...**_

__He swallowed. _No. __**Yes.**_

_** I…okay…I trust your judgment.**_

_Please don't. _He cursed at himself. Taking a few more deep, shaky breaths, he pushed himself upward, leaning on his bow-staff for support. A wave of nausea swept over him as he surveyed the damage, which looked as if there was most definitely a piece of his bone protruding from his leg, making a large lump very noticeable on the side of his boot. There was no time to look at it, no time to examine the injury, no time to diagnose the wound, but one thing he knew for sure was that it did not feel good. _At all_.

His weapon acted as a cane when he started walking again, getting closer and closer to his destination. Every step was agony, but he pressed on. He was not about to give up, let Conner die…fail Bruce. _Mind over matter_, he kept telling himself, _mind over matter._ Where was an adrenaline rush when he needed it?

Since there was no way that he would ever be able to take the elevator, Tim burst through the door leading to the stairs. He thanked _God_ for grappling hooks as he pulled his off of his belt and aimed it at the roof. Pulling the trigger, it shot upward, imbedding itself in the ceiling as Tim zipped up in its tracks. Clearing the handrail, he retracted the grapple, being sure to land on his good ankle.

"Next time," he huffed, "I'm gonna keep a brace in this belt." Shoving the door open, he turned left, only to be confronted by a long hallway.

He froze.

Down at the very end of the corridor, thick metal bars barricaded a room overflowing with a green-colored gas, and just behind them, Tim could make out a figure sprawled out across the floor. Conner.

"Superboy!" Tim called. "Hang on!" He trudged as fast as he could, anxiety and relief flooding his brain. A moan escaped his lips as he quickened his pace in anticipation. _Almost there…_

He yelped and fell to the ground as a sharp pain suddenly shot through his…_head?_ He lay there, scrunching his eyes shut to suppress the feel of the blow. Rolling on his back, he looked up at the ceiling. What even-

Tim gasped as he quickly dodged a dagger being thrust towards his face. As he made his way to a crouching position, he slid his leg, knocking the henchman down with a thud. Screaming from the unbearable contact, he got to his feet, slowly applying more and more pressure to his hurt ankle until his entire leg went numb.

"Dude!" Tim shouted in frustration, still trying to catch his breath. "Where did you even _come _from?!"

The stooge pushed himself up, yelling as he charged towards the caped teenager. Once he reached Tim, a fierce brawl of agility and hand-to-hand combat broke out between the two as they fought to overpower each other. Tim couldn't remember the last time that he'd taken that many punches in a row, but he was reminded how it was to feel like a tenderized steak. He could feel his knuckles bruising, his ribs slowly giving out with each dodge he failed to initiate, could taste the blood in his mouth with the accompaniment of his swollen jaw. It eventually reached a point where he thought that they would stay like this forever, but Tim was a detective, not a psychic.

"AH!" The gas mask flew off. Tim cupped his nose from the punch, anger filling his thoughts. Bringing his hand down to look at it, he saw that blood coated the palm of his glove. Growling, Tim clenched his fists and with one final blow, he struck the henchman who finally collapsed, unconscious.

Tim wailed.

Then he breathed. Everything hurt. _A_ _lot_.

He wiped his nose with his sleeve, picking up his bow-staff and staring down at the masked thug in which he'd just beaten. Why had that been so hard for him? Staggering the remaining distance to the bars, he took note of the door's size. Sticking a few explosives on the hinges, he took a few steps back before blowing them clean off. The door fell, clanging against the hard floors, and he abruptly hobbled over them, making his way over to the fallen meta and leaning down next to him. Nervously, he took Conner's pulse, letting out a chuckle of relief once he felt his heartbeat. Still alive…_for now._ He slapped the super across the face in an attempt to wake him. The gas had stopped flowing, but he was still out cold. How much of that stuff had he breathed in?

"Conner," he tried, "Conner, wake up….Conner!"

Nothing.

Tim groaned, "C'mon, Conner. You have _got_ to be kidding me!" He could feel the building getting hotter and hotter every second, the flames reaching an almost inextinguishable state. Realizing that there was still so much to do and so little time, Tim collapsed his staff and put it back on his belt. Flipping Conner onto his stomach, he turned around, pulling the half-Kryptonian's arms up and around his neck. "Okay, Tim," he breathed, "Here we go."

With one last inhale, he stood, bringing Conner up with him. The sheer torment that Tim was enduring was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. As he stumbled forward, dragging Conner along, he broke down. With each step he took, his sobbing grew louder and more intense, his body shaking, _trembling_. His entire body _burned_.

_Just. Keep. Moving._

"Nngah!" Tim cried as a chunk of debris slammed into the super. _WHY?_ Conner's arms slid out of his grasp and he fell to the ground, bringing Tim down with him.

The masked teenager was losing it. Losing his will…

_No. Not like this._ Screaming, he forced himself back up, hardly noticing the smoke in consideration of everything else, and he pulled Conner's arms back up around his neck. _The pain is a simulation_, he told himself, _None of this is real_.

He began again, every movement causing his ankle to throb. Eyes watering, he clenched his teeth. "Just." _Step._ "Keep." _Step._ "Moving." _Step._

He'd made it halfway down the corridor, continuing ever forward until finally reaching the end. There was absolutely no way he was _ever _going to be able to get back down those stairs with a broken ankle and a one-hundred-eighty pound powerhouse on his back, so he had to make a choice: wall or window? Deciding to choose the latter, he thought about the best way that he could approach this and heaved Conner around to where he was in front of him. He didn't know if he could survive the fall from a two-story window…but a Superboy surely could.

Gripping the meta's shirt as tightly as he could, Tim gritted his teeth as he sprinted forward, crashing through the window and sending them both hurdling towards the ground below. He braced himself for impact as he held on to the clone for dear life.

_SLAM. BOOM._ Just as the heroes hit the ground, another explosion went off, causing the entire complex to come crumbling down.

_Good thing I didn't take the stairs._

Tim coughed as he rolled off of the unconscious Conner. He did it. He actually did it. He made it out. Alive. In one piece. With Conner. _Huh_. It all seemed so surreal…except for the fact that he couldn't move. He'd lost all feeling in his ankle and had most definitely broken at least three of his ribs. His lungs were on fire, his mouth tasted of copper and soot, and every time he attempted to open his mouth, his jaw protested with the one of the most excruciating aches he'd ever experienced. He felt like he was bleeding out…_somewhere_, and if he didn't get medical attention soon…

"Robin!"

Tim could just barely make out the faint sound of someone calling his name. Was back-up finally here?

"Robin!"

There it was again. Who was that? Why were they shouting at him?

"Tim! Oh my God, _Tim_! Can you hear me?!..._Tim_?"

He couldn't…couldn't _see_ anything. Just hear. Barely. And the pain… How could he even…_what?_... Was the whole team here? The Justice League? Who did M'gann call? Was Conner okay? Why was his chest so cold?

"It's okay, Timmy. Everything's going to be okay…"

Timmy? He…he called him _Timmy_? Only…only…

"D-Dick?"

"Oh, thank Christ! Timmy? Yes, it's me, Dick." He felt a gloved hand stroke through his hair. "You're going to be okay."


	7. Conner (3)

**Hey guys! So yeah, it's taken me an incredibly long time to update. Sorry about that. I've been planning and working on my novel for National Novel Writing Month, and that's kind of been taking up all of my time. Due to NaNoWriMo, my next update won't come until next month since I will be spending all of November trying to write a 50,000 word book. So yes, expect to see Chapter 8 at the beginning of December.**

**Sorry if there are a crazy amount of errors in this chapter, I was working quickly and didn't have time to revise.**

**Thank you all so much for your patience and reviews, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 7: Conner**

Conner had woken up in a lot of strange conditions before, nursing a Psimon-induced headache, coming out of a M'gann-induced coma, and let's not forget being in the pod labeled "Kr". But _this_? This was by far the worst thing that he has ever woken up to. He had experienced pain before, and if those other things that he had experienced were considered "pain", then what he was feeling right now was far beyond any imaginable type of injury.

He lay on the thin, white sheets of a hospital bed, breathing slowly through an oxygen mask that covered his mouth and nose. Was that really necessary for him? He didn't know, nor did he care at this point. His lungs felt as if someone had taken a lighter to each one individually while they watched the tissue slowly burn away until all that was left were the charred remains. Each inhalation felt more painful than the last, and with every beat of his heart, he felt it coming closer and closer to pounding right through his chest. It was confusing to him how he could look so okay on the outside and be so completely dead on the inside. It seemed as if there wasn't a single scratch on him, but it sure as hell didn't feel like it.

He looked to his right, noticing that there was a glass of water sitting on his nightstand, and as he reached for it, his heart rate accelerated, causing his breathing to increase which in turn, brought on more agonizing pain. He groaned, ripping off the oxygen mask and sitting up in bed with one quick movement. Every tiny action made it seem as if he'd just ran a marathon, and within seconds of raising the glass to his lips, his vision became blurry. Swallowing hard, his hands began to tremble, and before he even had time to notice the sudden shaking, the glass slipped from his grasp, landing in his lap and spilling all over his bedding and gown…_gown._ He was wearing a _hospital gown. _

Eyes widening in horror, he picked up the glass and put it back on the nightstand before he had time to break it. He threw back the wet sheets, staring down at his bare legs as he let out a cracked groan of frustrated anguish. His clothes had to be here somewhere. There was no way he was going to let _anybody_ see him in this thing. Scanning the room, his eyes locked on the jeans and boots sitting neatly on a chair in the corner. On the opposite side of the room. _Perfect_.

Spinning himself, he let his legs dangle over the side of the bed for a moment while he frantically rubbed the fuzziness out of his eyes. His ears were throbbing, and as he managed to get to his feet, the moment he put any weight into his legs his knees buckled. Gripping the bed, he tore the mattress as he fell to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. The tile was cold against his skin, and as he struggled to fight off blacking out from the searing pain coursing through his lungs, he found himself only able to think about how he'd just ripped the bed. He still had his strength.

The smallest sense of relief flooded his pulsating thoughts, but it was quickly replaced by the sudden feeling of embarrassment as Garfield walked into the room. Immediately upon noticing Conner's position, he gasped, racing to his side to help him up. "Jeez, Conner!" He draped Conner's arm around his neck before slowly standing him up. "What were you trying to do?"

"…" Conner stopped. He frowned, trying again. "…" No. _No._ His voice. It was gone. _Gone_. He couldn't talk. His throat went numb with each passing puff of air that came out of his mouth. The Kryptonite gas must've singed his throat on its way down to his lungs. A wave of panic swept over him as he moved to sit back down on the bed, clutching his throat with one hand and touching his temple with the other. This wasn't going to be permanent, right?

Garfield must've noted Conner's silent gestures because he scrunched his eyebrows in worry, sitting down next to him on the bed. "Oh my God. Conner…you can't talk…can you?"

Conner's breathing became more rapid as he closed his eyes, fighting back tears that, what he told himself, were due to the immense burning sensation accumulating in his chest. He rested his head in his hands, gripping his hair with his fingers and clenching his teeth. This could not be happening.

He felt the feathery light touch of Garfield's hand against his back, offering him comfort, and for a split second, his muscles relaxed, giving in to the small show of affection. Steadying his breathing, Conner wiped his faced before opening his eyes and turning to face the young hero. His blue eyes softened as he summoned a slight smile to his face, bringing his hand up to ruffle Garfield's hair, though Gar was smarter than that.

"No," Garfield proclaimed, removing Conner's hand from his head, "You're _not_ okay. Don't even _think_ about trying to tell me that you are."

Conner's smile faded as he realized that there was no way he was getting off easy here. What was he supposed to do? Even if he wanted to, it's not like he could _talk_ about his feelings or anything. Remembering that he was still not wearing any pants, he perked up a bit and pointed towards his clothes and shoes. Garfield looked over, grinning as soon as he figured out why Conner had been on the floor in the first place.

"Got it," he said, "Yeah, I wouldn't want to be sitting around here without pants on either." Springing up from the bed, he retrieved Conner's clothing, handing it to the thankful meta. It was almost as if a sudden realization dawned on Garfield's face, and as Conner took his outfit, the younger boy chimed, "Do you, uh…do you need any help with that?"

Conner immediately blushed, shaking his head. As he began to dress himself, slipping his feet through the holes in his jeans, he unexpectedly felt as if he was forgetting something, and as he pulled his pants the rest of the way up, Garfield rubbed the back of his neck. "So…how are you feeling? Other than, ya know, the whole not talking thing."

Conner glared at him as he pulled the hospital gown up and over his head, grabbing the fresh, plain black shirt that he'd guessed one of his teammates had brought for him. He raised an eyebrow at Garfield, holding the shirt out as if to say "Did you bring me these clothes?" And as he put it on, Garfield shook his head.

"M'gann brought them for you. She figured that…well, that as soon as you woke up, you'd want them. I guess she was right." He smiled at his mentioning of her name, giving Conner a suggestive look. "She really does know you well, doesn't she?"

Conner rolled his eyes. He didn't need this right now. What he needed was for his lungs to stop burning and to figure out why he had the strange feeling that he was missing something here.

Okay. Let's recap: Mission. Queen Industries. Ninja guys. Separation. Kryptonite room… Nothing that he could think of…

_M'gann_. Of course! The fire. He wondered if she'd made it out without any substantial damage. She had apparently been well enough to bring him clean clothes, so that was a good sign. Looking back over at Garfield, he sized him up, not noticing any major injuries and thanking God for that. He grabbed the boy's shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes, mouthing the words: _Where's M'gann_?

Garfield chuckled, brushing him off. "Don't worry, she's okay. I got her out before things got too hot. Luckily, I'm only part Martian, so the heat doesn't really bother me as much." Conner let out a sigh of relief which for some reason, caused Garfield to tense up. He put a hand on Garfield's shoulder, looking at him as if asking what was wrong.

Garfield winced. "You…you have no idea what happened, do you?" Conner shook his head. Garfield sat on the bed as Conner waited for him to keep talking. He sighed. "_Think_, Conner. How do you think you got out of that building?"

Conner paused for a moment. If Garfield had saved M'gann, he most likely would have stayed with her to make sure that she was okay, which left the notion that…

Oh God. _Robin_. Robin had been with them, too, hadn't he? He mouthed the name, and Garfield nodded, looking down at his feet. "It was his idea, going in after you. M'gann tried to stop him, but he didn't want to risk leaving you in there until backup arrived."

Conner's stomach lurched. Oh God. What had he _done_? Had Robin… Garfield must have noticed Conner's uneasiness because he quickly spoke up. "Oh, he's not dead! Oh, God, yeah, he didn't die or anything, he's just bruised and…well, his tibia is broken in two places, he has three broken ribs, he's still unconscious, and…they're not sure if he's gonna wake up."

The meta stared down at his knees, collecting his thoughts. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This couldn't have been real. Why would Robin do that for him? It's not like they were exactly "best friends" or anything like that. Well…actually, he probably would have done the same thing for him, he guessed. They were teammates, that's what they were supposed to do. It was just weird to hear that someone was so willing to risk their life in order to save Conner's. Especially Robin. He'd never known how selfless that the young hero was until now.

There was a long, awkward silence following Garfield's startling information as Conner tried to process what he was suddenly feeling. Guilt? Gratitude? Worry? What _should_ he be feeling? Conner turned to Garfield and mouthed: _Where's Robin?_

Garfield's eyes filled with hope. "He's in the room down the hall. I can help you there if you're up to it?" Conner nodded as Garfield hopped off of the bed and took his arm over his shoulders again. Stepping off of the bed, he limped towards the door, and just as they were about to make their way out, a striking man with raven hair and bright blue eyes walked into the room. He looked very familiar, but Conner was pretty sure he'd never seen him before.

Garfield hunkered over. "Hey." He spoke defensively. "Look, before you get all-"

"Gar, could you give us a minute?" He interrupted.

"But Conner didn't have anything to do with-"

"_Please?_" He crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows. Garfield hesitated, but he nodded, walking Conner back to his bed and letting him sit down before slowly walking towards the door. He stopped for a moment, making eye contact with Conner one last time before leaving completely. Great. Here Conner was with some pissed-off stranger in his room with no explanation for whatever he was most likely pissed-off _about_. He was probably here because of Robin, and Conner guessed him to be his older brother maybe, much too young to be his dad. He closed the door, hand lingering on the knob.

"Conner…I know you can't talk," he stated, "They said you wouldn't be able to talk. At least not for now, anyways." The man walked over to him, standing a few feet away. "You probably have no idea who I am, do you?"

Conner shrugged.

"I guess you've never seen me without my mask, have you?"

Conner froze. His eyes widened. _Dick? _He mouthed.

"Look, Conner, I'm not here to yell at you," he began, "I'm just here to tell you that next time, when something like this happens, please pay closer attention to him, okay? He's so young, and I don't want..." He looked off to the side for a moment before continuing. "…Why did you let him do that?"

Conner shook his head as if to say that he had no idea, that there was nothing he could've done, but Dick ignored him. He was getting a little angry now. "Why would you let him stay inside of a burning building with a broken leg to save you? You're Kryptonian, it's not like you needed saving!" He clenched his fists at his sides. "And I know there was Kryptonite gas, and I know that you're in a whole lot of pain right now, but you're going to recover. You heal ten times faster than a normal man. Robin is just a person. And now…" He took a deep breath and relaxed his hands. "I don't even know what I'm saying."

Conner had only seen Dick cry two times in his life. The first time was after the death of Jason Todd. The second time was right now.

The Superboy continued in his attempts to get Dick to try and understand what he was saying, but the stubborn acrobat wouldn't have it. He rubbed his eyes, completely disregarding the tears, and stated sternly, "You…you are to never go on another mission with him again, do you hear me?" He was shouting now. "Never again! Don't even _talk_ to him!" As Dick stormed out of the room, Conner held out his hand in his direction, trying to get him to hear him out, but it was no use. He guessed that Garfield had tried explaining things to Dick, but the hard-headed leader most likely wasn't willing to listen to a child, especially with such a sensitive subject. Where was M'gann? Had Dick not spoken with her? Conner had to find her. Dick listens to M'gann. She would explain everything until his damn voice came back.

Quickly, he put on his boots and got off of the bed. It was still painful as hell, but he could already feel his body beginning to heal. At least now he could stand on his own…somewhat.

_Mt. Justice…_

After searching practically everywhere he could in his condition, Conner gave up. He collapsed onto his bed with a broken grunt. Where was she? It was useless. _Useless_. He couldn't find her _anywhere_. It was almost as if she was hiding from him or something. And to top things off, he couldn't even get in to check on Tim, to see if there had been any progress. Dick wouldn't let him. Conner could understand Dick's reaction, but he was being completely unfair. It was Conner they were talking about here, not some serial killer who'd tried to murder the kid!

Against his better judgment, he sprung up off of the bed, punching the wall, and it crumbled beneath his fist, knocking over his nightstand. The drawers flew open as it landed, a box springing out and hitting him in the feet.

A lead box.

Brushing the drywall off of himself, he leaned down, grunting as he felt the soreness in his back and picked up the box, sitting back down on the bed. He examined the container. As crazy as it sounds, he'd kind of almost forgotten about this thing. This source of what would supposedly be "ultimate power" for him. He wavered a moment before slowly unlatching the top and lifting the lid, revealing the thin leather bracelet, the red K glittering as if it had a life of its own.

It couldn't possibly work, couldn't possibly be or do what Lex claimed that it was…but what if…

Conner smirked. Either way, he was going to find out.


End file.
